Hi-Q

Ever since rereading Franny and Zooey and Raise High the Roof Beams, Carpenter I've been meaning to check out the Japanese poet Issa, especially as translated by R. H. Blyth, since both/all those stories recommend him/them so highly. Well, I finally got around to it on the weekend and had my mind immediately expanded in the pleasantest of ways.

For some reason, I've never paid much attention to haiku, which is weird because I went through a huge Zen phase in high school and a huge Kerouac phase a little later. I think the blame for my lack of interest rests on the way haiku is taught in North American English classes, as if it's little more than a formal constraint on the number of syllables. They usually mention nature in there too, but that's about it. It's too bad, really, because the 5-7-5 syllable thing is a constraint which works in Japanese much better than in English. Most English haiku writers, and almost all translators of Japanese haiku into English, actually ignore that rule completely.

Much more important is the idea of the poem being very short and pithy, capturing a particular moment as observed by the poet, but eschewing any extra value judgment that the poet's mind might try to impose on that moment. It should be dry as a bone, drawing the reader into the same perception that caused the poet to write it, before it got all tangled up with extra-perceptive stuff like thoughts and emotions. It's a very unromantic form in that way, so maybe not particularly apt for Valentine's Day, but then again who cares whether Hallmark is pleased with my reading habits?

The poems bear some resemblance to jokes too, though they're not usually funny, as such. But the required pithiness, along with the prevalence of homographs in the Japanese language, often leads to puns or subtler double meanings. And there's also a sort of set-up and punchline aspect to it, with the third line generally surprising the reader or revealing an unexpected aspect to the moment that deepens our understanding of the first two lines. Kind of like the whack on the back with a stick that can sometimes bring about satori in Zen meditation. There's a really good article about the connections between Zen and haiku here, if you're interested.

Having thus hopefully convinced you that it's worth the brief time it'll take, here for your reading pleasure and general enlightenment are a few of Issa's/Blyth's haikus.

It's not a big deal—
the poppy and I
are both alive.

The spring day lasts
a little longer
around water.

The temple bells stop—
but the sound keeps coming
out of the flowers.

The older we get,
the more easily tears come
on a long day.

The world of dew
is the world of dew,
And yet, and yet—

(That last one was written when his two-year-old daughter died. He had a pretty unlucky life. Which is why he became such a great poet? Who knows?)

Having primed myself with such extraordinary fare, I started seeing the world through the eyes of a haikuist, and two immediately came to me. They're more Basho than Issa, and they seemed to want to be in the 5-7-5 format, so I let them. Sometimes I'm a traditionalist.

Winter morning light,
the cat asleep on my legs—
a truck rumbles by.

All the fat sparrows
are sitting in the same tree.
Here comes another.

I'll be very happy if they keep coming, though I won't continue to inflict them on you.